


Them

by letsjustfckngo



Category: SHINee
Genre: Abuse, Drama, M/M, Multi, Pain, There are some things I could tag this as but I'll be secretive shhhhhh, Verbal Abuse, domestic abuse, jinki is good and pure, jonghyun is weird, kibum and minho bicker all the time, taemin needs help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsjustfckngo/pseuds/letsjustfckngo
Summary: It had never been his intention to become an idol. Of course, he had always loved to sing and he couldn’t even remember the amount of songs he’d written in his lifetime, but ending up here had never been a conscious decision. This was just what he’d been led to; what had been dropped into his lap. He’d taken it — of course he had, how couldn’t he? — but every day since he’d remembered to be cautious of the world he’d unknowingly fallen into. There was something to it that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it always just seemed a little off. It felt like a dream that had come to life, he supposed, although part of it would always feel a bit aloof, making him wonder at what point this dream of his would turn into a nightmare.---Or: Taemin needs help, and Jonghyun knows it.
Relationships: Choi Minho/Lee Taemin, Kim Jonghyun/Lee Taemin, Kim Kibum | Key/Lee Taemin, Lee Jinki | Onew/Lee Taemin, OT5 - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Them

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I have been working on for quite some time. It consists of three parts, and will be updated when I feel confident about all the chapters! I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Jonghyun had made a life for himself.

There were people around him during every part of every day, talking about mundane things that made him smile. They would look at him in a way he was familiar with, though they would do _that_ in a way he was, instead, utterly unfamiliar with. They would look at him and speak about him as though he wasn’t really there. More so than being actually invisible — which he had often felt like, to be honest — they would treat him like a product; like something they’d designed to make them money, and somehow Jonghyun had agreed to that somewhere along the way. Was it inhumane? Maybe. Probably. Were there things about that that he truly hated? Yes. Definitely. Would he, therefore, try to stop it, then?

No, he wouldn’t. Not yet, at least.

Jonghyun revelled in those feelings. Being stretched too thin; being disregarded once or twice too many, it was something he’d come to expect now. He’d learnt how to defend himself against it, how to scream and shout for the director to look at him and _listen_ to him, until he’d see that vein poking through the skin of the man’s neck and he’d fall silent, lips in a thin line until, albeit against his own will, he’d say: “What is it, Jonghyun?”

Now he enjoyed it. The position he had, on that thin, rotating, white cylinder against an entirely black background, ceiling and flooring, almost made him feel like he was floating. One of his hands was on a mic stand, as the other held onto the vintage microphone that he sang into. There were cameras around him, following his every move; every little blink of his eyes. They’d catch his sweat, which would appear quickly as a result of the burning hot stage lamps, after which he’d hear a loud, impenetrable, destructive _“CUT!”_ that would cut his singing short in an instant.

(Once, when he’d expressed offense at being talked over like that, the director had shouted at him: “I _told_ you you don’t really have to sing. Most of them just lip sync. If you don’t want your line cut short, you just follow their lead.” However, Jonghyun had opposed that so firmly, and so, let’s call it _aggressively_ , that the discussion had never been brought to light again. For both their sakes, actually.)

Someone would rush over to him, an excessive accessory that resembled a fanny pack filled with make-up strapped around their waist. Without saying a word, they’d take out a brush or a pad — Jonghyun still didn’t really know which was used for what, or whether it all depended on artist’s preference — and lightly dab or brush at his forehead until he could feel the uncomfortable droplets of sweat disappear underneath a new, thick layer of make-up. It would be someone different every time, and he’d never see them for long enough to learn how to tell their faces apart. They’d all blurred together into one, to the point Jonghyun had to stop using names altogether. Calling them by nicknames: colours — of either their hair, or eyeshadow — only bode well with some of them, where others found themselves getting offended by Jonghyun’s lack of interest in them.

Not that that was true, of course. Jonghyun was interested in everyone he met, and sometimes he’d go great lengths to figure out what certain people were all about. It was just that the company didn’t give him much time for that anymore, and so he had to remain superficial, only maintaining relationships for a span of ten to fifteen hours. Naturally, Jonghyun always thought they were good relationships, but they were short nonetheless.

“What the fuck did you do?!” A voice spat out. It belonged to someone in distress, although Jonghyun could never tell how much of that emotion was real, and how much of it was an exaggeration.

Jonghyun smiled. Of course, there were also some constants in his life, and Kim Kibum was one of them.

“I just did my job, believe it or not.”

“And you had to, _what_ , flap your arms around for that?!” Kibum tugged at his sleeves, straightening them out. There was a safety pin in his mouth, which he then took out and skillfully used to keep everything in the right place. Accidentally — _in other words, not accidentally at all_ — he jabbed its sharp point into a piece of Jonghyun’s skin, drawing a yelp from behind his lips. “Oops.”

“Don’t take it out on me!” Jonghyun growled, feeling a beginning rush of anger. These days, those had become a little harder to control. A side effect of being under stress, he supposed, but he wouldn’t burden anyone with that, especially when it could be solved by simply focusing on something else. The situation at hand in this case, for example. “These clothes are meant to be ruined by stylists. No one said we'd have to keep them intact.”

“But this is going to be beyond deformed!” Kibum’s words escaped his mouth in the form of a whine. “And that’s all because of your—”

“My job. And I barely moved, which you would have known if you’d have looked.”

Kibum shrugged. “Something else caught my attention. You know _‘cut’_ and _‘crew’_ are the only words that matter to me here. I’m not watching fifteen hours of you flapping your arms around and messing up my — _your_ sleeves.”

Although Kibum thought highly of the job he did, and prided himself on everything he’d achieved, Jonghyun knew that being a stylist had never been part of his dream plan. To Jonghyun, it always looked more like a solution to a problem Kibum didn’t know how to solve in a different way. He wasn’t being noticed in the ways he needed to be noticed, and because there was not a hair on his head that would ever think of stepping away from this industry, this was where he’d ended up. He loved fashion, after all, so could it really be so bad?

Well, for someone who continued telling Jonghyun that he loved where he was, he certainly had a lot of resentful outbreaks. Jonghyun didn’t blame him for this, but he didn’t ever manage to feel bad for the other either. Jonghyun knew that Kibum wouldn’t like living like this, and — when he would no longer be in a position to shout at people, members of crew and idols alike — that the reality of his dreams would ultimately have him crumble.

Kibum wasn’t someone who followed directions well, but not in the way Jonghyun didn’t. His inability to do so had more to do with who he was than with how angry it made him.

“Surely you must be done by now?!” One of Jonghyun’s managers had walked up to them, with a frown etched onto his features. “Can you hurry it up a little? We have to keep going! We’re already so far behind on schedule and—”

“Do you want to do it yourself?” Kibum didn’t snap at him, because he often didn’t, but one of his eyebrows was raised up high. Like this, Kim Kibum treated people like they were imbeciles, which Jonghyun’s manager frankly was. “ _Surely_ you should be able to do it faster, better? Hm?”

The man looked defeated, after which he threw his hands up in frustration. “Please just try to hurry up a little, okay? We really can’t afford falling behind another day.”

Before Kibum could say anything else, Jonghyun grabbed a hold of his hand. At the same time, he threw him a soft smile, as if to tell him not to worry, and definitely not to break out in another one of his stand-offs. Like this, he gave the man the opportunity to walk away again, no matter the fact that he hadn’t addressed Jonghyun at all for the whole duration of that conversation. He would let him get away with it, even if he usually didn’t. Just this once.

“Do you ever get tired of that?” Kibum asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Jonghyun answered, knowing that this was the answer Kibum wanted to hear. “How couldn’t I?”

“Well…” With a few tugs, Kibum let go of Jonghyun’s sleeve. With that, he yanked himself free from Jonghyun’s soothing grip. “...so do I.”

Jonghyun could almost hear the silent addition to these words in Kibum's mind ( _“But… I wouldn’t get tired of_ that,” while motioning to whatever it was that Jonghyun was doing), and it took him everything he had not to cringe at it.

***

It had never been his intention to become an idol. Of course, he had always loved to sing and he couldn’t even remember the amount of songs he’d written in his lifetime, but ending up here had never been a conscious decision. This was just what he’d been led to; what had been dropped into his lap. He’d taken it — of course he had, how couldn’t he? — but every day since he’d remembered to be cautious of the world he’d unknowingly fallen into. There was something to it that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it always just seemed a little off. It felt like a dream that had come to life, he supposed, although part of it would always feel a bit aloof, making him wonder at what point this dream of his would turn into a nightmare.

For now, however, it was good. He’d been given freedom back when he first started, allowing him to make rules for himself that he knew many of the new ones couldn’t, and he still experienced the benefits of it.

For example, he wouldn’t be in a group. He had decided that he wouldn’t, and so he hadn’t been. Some of the people around him still wondered how he’d ever managed that, but for Jonghyun it seemed simple: he hadn’t needed to be here, and he was probably one of the only ones whose threats to leave would actually amount to him leaving. They all knew that he would, and back then they hadn’t been as free in disregarding their idols as they were now. Jonghyun didn’t have to prove himself to them, because he already had. Instead, the company had needed to prove itself to him. If they wanted him — which they did; they’d thought they _really_ needed him, especially back then — they could have him, but only in the one way he wanted it himself.

Alone.

And then he’d allowed them to exploit him, not caring to stop that from happening. That’d required him to care about anything internal at all, and he didn’t. He didn’t know how to.

Besides, it wasn’t like Jonghyun didn’t exploit this company in return. There were many things he benefited from, that he otherwise never would have been able to benefit from at all. Take the building, for example, which was always filled with more secrets than he was able to comprehend. Behind each door — which, ironically enough, each had labels that said: _‘Staff Only’_ , which implied that Jonghyun, along with every other idol, didn’t belong to said _staff_ — there were secrets. Some of them he’d made up by himself, and he’d written them down in his book of imaginary situations, which he later used for songs if the opportunity for it would come. Other secrets, he had seen, or heard, or heard _of_.

There were secrets of every type. Some funny ( _“You know that room that looks like a broom closet, the one that doesn’t have a door handle — only a keyhole? Well, there aren’t any brooms, just a bed, and it’s used by some of the Girls Generation managers. You know, as if those girls themselves aren’t tired.”),_ others uninteresting ( _“I’m pretty sure that’s the finance department, but not the normal, clean finance department. The one they arrange all that tax fraud in. What? You know it’s happening!”_ which, of course he did), others sad ( _“They sent off one of the trainees. She got ill too often, and they’re thinking there might be something more serious going on. Pretty sure they don’t want to deal with something like that. Would just be a pain, right?”_ ), and, finally, others cruel (but those couldn’t be expressed in words, and the only stories Jonghyun had about _those_ secrets could only be expressed in the devastating cries and screams he’d heard and wouldn’t be able to reproduce if he tried).

He was aware that no one would exactly call these secrets benefits, but Jonghyun did. He had been waiting for something like this for quite some time now. Time was ticking. Something was going to happen. Soon.

However, there was nothing Jonghyun could really do about any of it. After all, he too was a victim of some of these secrets, and more often than not it seemed like there was nowhere he could really turn to. Higher up, no one cared about them when it came down to instances that wouldn’t directly lead to money, and it wasn’t like there were lawyers that would favour Idols over — you guessed it — all the money the company would hand out to bribe them with.

All he could do was to — subtly enough for it to be approved — put it in his songs, in abstractly vague terms that no one had yet been able to correctly decipher. Not that he really wanted anyone to; it wasn't time yet.

The easiest thing (but also the hardest thing) was to simply forget about it, and take the much needed pleasure from the simpler things, such as the things that even the world outside himself would be able to recognise as benefits, instead of a long-winded and elaborate plan to harm himself unnecessarily.

“Can’t you hurry?! God, I just stood around for about eighteen hours watching _this_ guy. Do you have any idea how hungry I am?” As Kibum animatedly smacked his hand down onto the table, Jonghyun laughed harder than he should, but — well — he _had_ indeed been standing on a rotating cylinder for eighteen hours, so he supposed he could be excused.

“I’m not just going to drop everything for you, _Kibum_.” Minho’s back was turned to them, and he pretended to be busy with a box of bottled water. He did this often, Jonghyun had noticed, and especially when Kibum was with him. Minho didn’t want the stylist to think that he was just standing around, even if that was often exactly what he was doing.

“Well, you kind of did anyway,” Kibum smirked. “Might as well go all out.”

The cafe inside of the main building had been meant to close five minutes after they’d arrived, but as always, Minho had done them a favour by letting them in anyway. He looked tired, Jonghyun noticed, but at this time of day pretty much everything was tainted by a cloud of exhaustion.

Minho said nothing, and instead just began to pull his box into a different direction. In front of the large fridge by the door, he knelt down, and began to fill the empty spaces with as many bottles of water as he could.

“So, is it coming?” Kibum asked, leaning over the back of his chair to look at Minho. “I’m honestly, _really_ starving.”

“The toaster will make its noise when it’s done. You can go get it yourself when you hear it; I’m busy.”

Jonghyun knew that he wasn’t _really_ busy, and that he probably wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for Kibum’s presence, but Minho preferred to pretend that none of them knew that. It was easier that way, and simultaneously gave Kibum the least opportunity to talk shit about him in one way or another. After all, that was what Kibum most liked to do, though especially when it came down to Minho, who he had known for years and years — much longer than Jonghyun had known either of them.

Sometimes it seemed like their friendship only existed by default, and that the fact they now mostly worked inside of the building was a coincidence, but Jonghyun knew that wasn’t true. It may not really seem like they got along, but they did. They _were_ friends, just not the type of friends that you would typically think of, or the type of friends that existed anywhere else. And that was why they’d stuck together, even after all these years of being in the same classes, pretending to hate each other in a very minimal way.

Minho’s job here was no coincidence; he was here because Kibum was here.

“So you’re not turning the machine back on for some coffee, and now this has turned some cheap self service cafe too?”

“Yeah, that’d be correct. As always, we’re cheap here.”

Kibum groaned, and Jonghyun and Minho both knew that he didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. “They’re stupidly overpriced for what they’re worth, if you ask me.”

“Oh, fuck off. You know I’m giving them away for free! I always do at this time.”

Jonghyun said nothing. His eyelids were heavy, and at this point there was nothing he’d rather do than listen to this bickering. Part of him even wished he’d be able to join in, but he didn’t. It didn’t feel like his place to do that. Not _yet_ , at least. Maybe in a few years he’d feel absorbed into this relationship — friendship — to an extent he would be able meddle in their conversations in a similar way.

His eyes shot open a little further, awakened by the beeping noise they’d previously been warned about. Kibum looked at Minho and shot a threatening glare in his direction, but when Minho passive aggressively jammed a few more bottles into the already overflowing shelf, Kibum finally got up himself.

“What’s up with you today, anyway?” Kibum asked, and that question in itself was evidence of the fact that they were actually — in fact — friends. “You’re even more intolerable than you usually are.”

Minho just groaned, then said nothing. However, when he noticed that there _really_ wasn’t any more space for water bottles, he got back up on his feet and began to push the box behind the counter again.

When Kibum put his and Jonghyun’s grilled sandwiches on a plate, Minho followed him and took a seat at the same table, forgetting all about the work he’d been ‘too busy with’ to help Kibum out. By the way Kibum said nothing of it — and _only_ raised his eyebrow — their friendship became clear as day once more.

“It’s something petty again, isn’t it?”

Minho shrugged, half admitting to it, and Jonghyun sat up straight again. He listened out for something; something that’d catch his attention.

“I’m off tomorrow.”

“Yeah, so? Shouldn’t that be good?”

Minho sighed, but then his lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, so…”

“... It _is_ petty?”

A laugh escaped his lips, and he shrugged again, silently admitting to Kibum’s statement. Kibum matched the laughter with a grin. As always, he loved being right.

Jonghyun looked at Minho, making his eyes look as tired as he could. He needed an explanation for being as quiet as he was, so that it wouldn’t be weird for him to be staring at him _this_ intently. His heart was beating nervously, realising that he _really_ needed Minho to talk about what he was about to talk about. He’d been waiting for it for days, to the point of being scared it wouldn’t be brought up at all, and he still hadn’t managed to come up with a satisfactory plan B.

“Actually, now I think about it,” Minho started, and Jonghyun could have sworn he could hear the nerves bouncing through his chest. That usually happened, Jonghyun knew, when he was about to be ridiculed, “it’s going to sound really bad to be complaining about it.”

Kibum rolled his eyes, and then reached out towards Minho’s shoulder to give him a playful push. “Better get to the point, then.”

“Do you know that theatre? The one my mum goes to?” Minho asked. Kibum nodded, and then motioned for him to keep going. Minho looked at Jonghyun once, who then, despite not knowing the slightest thing about Minho’s mother, nodded as well, and sighed upon the realisation that he had no excuse to keep stalling. “They’re doing a charity event tomorrow — their funds are running really low — and she signed me up to help out with the drinks and stuff.”

Kibum was quiet for a moment. He took a bite of his sandwich (which he turned away for — Kibum didn’t like to hear others eat, and _also_ didn’t want to be watched when he was the only one eating) and then looked at Jonghyun. _“What the hell is this guy?”_ his eyes said, and Jonghyun could do nothing but smile. After all, Jonghyun knew exactly _what the hell_ this guy was.

“You’re a _terrible_ person, Choi Minho.” Kibum, of course, only spoke after he’d swallowed the bite down, and then he began to laugh a whole lot louder than he should have. “You’re in a bad mood because you’re forced to do a good deed tomorrow! Jesus, man, _grow_ _up_.”

“Hey, shut up, that’s not even…” Minho groaned, but he was too frustrated to finish that sentence. Of course he had already known he’d feel like that before he’d begun speaking, but still. “Just shut up.”

Jonghyun knew that it truly wasn’t what it seemed or sounded like; certainly nothing like what Kibum was implying (though, honestly, Kibum probably knew that too). He might not have known Minho that long — certainly not as long as Kibum had — but he knew enough to know that the guy had lost all motivation somewhere along the way. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, or when it had happened, just _that_ it had happened. Why else would he be here, and why else would he feel so frustrated about having to help out at a charity event?

“Where is it?” Jonghyun then asked. He didn’t know Minho’s mother, after all. “We’re off. Maybe we could come. Would that help?”

Kibum’s eyes shot over to Jonghyun. If this were some children’s television show, his mouth would have fallen wide open, but instead he only opened it slightly. Just one questioning look from Minho, however, and he quickly shut it again.

“You would do that?” Minho then asked. “Aren’t you tired? Not that it’s very early, but...”

Jonghyun could feel that Kibum’s eyes were on him, practically begging him to give the correct answer. It almost made him laugh and he didn’t let it change his mind at all. “No, if it would help them if I came, then I want to come. Why not, hm?” Quite on purpose, he looked at Kibum, and he smiled at him as if he didn’t know what he’d just done to him.

“Well, I hope you have fun, but… I’ve actually got plans.”

“Didn’t you say they’d fallen through?”

The glare that was thrown his way didn’t matter too much, as the grin that appeared on Minho’s face mattered a whole lot more at that moment. He’d amused him, and for some reason that felt important to him now. More important than Kibum’s right to his well-deserved day off.

“You’re a terrible person, Kim Kibum,” Minho said.

Kibum groaned. Just like that, they were on equal grounds again.

One against one, the evening would end on a draw.

***

Lee Jinki wasn’t someone who would call himself a singer. Jonghyun wasn’t sure why he knew that, but he did.

However, he also knew that Lee Jinki knew that he was, in fact, a singer. It was just that, when your talent wasn’t something you had ever properly been recognised for, there was something shameful about calling yourself an artist. You could say that you drew, of course, but not that you made art, and, therefore, Lee Jinki wasn’t a singer; he just sang.

He did it well, though. That was no secret. It was deep, pouring out of him from the very pit of his stomach, and travelling through his chest as though he was sending the noises through a tunnel. It echoed, almost, which was something Jonghyun wasn’t able to do, and, in all honesty, wouldn’t really attempt to do either. It wasn’t what he did, and he knew his own strengths too well to attempt to make it his thing.

“That’s crazy. That’s _going_ to be crazy,” Kibum muttered from the seat next to Jonghyun’s. They were watching his rehearsal, seated all the way in the back so that Jinki wouldn’t be thrown off. “If this were a talent show… Man, what a shame that it’s not. I’m sure there would be an insane amount of people willing to pay him.”

Jonghyun smiled, though, knowing better.

“It’s charity. Wouldn’t really call that a shame,” Minho said.

A hum from Jonghyun’s lips indicated that he agreed.

“Well, I still hope he’s getting paid for this. If not now, then on other occasions. Who is he anyway?”

 _He’s Lee Jinki_ , Jonghyun thought, but he said nothing. This was something Minho was far more capable of explaining. After all, Minho knew him, and Jonghyun had only seen the man’s name on the program, along with a very short biography that probably left out a lot of the details Kibum deserved to know about.

“Jinki. He’s nice,” Minho stated. Jonghyun nodded — the man did indeed seem nice. “Does musicals here sometimes. He’s very involved. I think the theatre is somewhat of a family thing, so he’s singing tonight.”

“As if family ties are the only reason someone would be willing to do charity. Tight reasoning, Minho.”

Minho rolled his eyes, and Jonghyun couldn’t help but laugh quietly. This bickering was something he would be able to listen to forever.

“Well, at least I wasn’t the one who claimed someone should be getting paid for doing charity.”

Kibum shook his head, disagreeing firmly. “That was just a compliment. He’s a really good singer.”

“And family is important.”

Kibum huffed, brushing off the comment and therefore classifying it as unimportant, and turned to Jonghyun again. “I suppose you’re going last?”

The decision he would be doing anything at all had only been made about an hour ago, and therefore Jonghyun didn’t have a space in the program. However, it was a very fair thing to assume, as just one Tweet mentioning that Jonghyun would be here was probably enough for the whole thing to turn into an enormous success. Jonghyun going last would mean that everyone would have to wait for him, giving everyone else the chance to be seen by more people than they would otherwise.

“I think I’ll have to,” Jonghyun said, even though something about that didn’t feel quite right. He’d be stealing someone’s spot, and he was sure the previous ‘headliner’ had been chosen for a very good reason. “But, actually…”

“Uh-oh, there he goes again; having a moment,” Kibum said. Once again, Jonghyun was shown proof that no one was safe from Kibum’s comments. “This should be fun.”

Jonghyun could hardly blame him, though, because he _was_ indeed about to have a moment, or at least something that Kibum would define as a moment.

He walked up to the front, where the stage was. Lee Jinki was still standing on top of it, as if he was too nervous to leave it yet. If he wouldn't be here, pretending to work on something to do with his performance, then he'd be somewhere else, worrying about it. At least here he would have far more control, and he'd be able to properly see what the changes he envisioned actually looked like. A better choice. Jonghyun could agree that this was a better choice.

“Hey,” Jonghyun said. He took the steps at the front of the stage to get on top of it himself. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Kibum and Minho. They were looking at him, waiting for Jonghyun's 'moment' to unfold. “Can I ask you something?”

When Jinki's eyes fell on him, he looked hardly taken aback. Jonghyun could see, however, that his breath hitched a little. “Of course,” he answered. Jonghyun appreciated how casual it was — there weren't many people like Jinki, who deemed it important not to make anyone feel uncomfortable. “Or, well, I'll do my best to answer it.”

“Do you know anything about the program?” Jonghyun held it in his hand and presented it in case he didn't.

“Yeah, I do. I made it.”

“What do you think about it?”

Jinki looked somewhat puzzled at first, but then he smiled. “I like it.”

Jonghyun nodded. "Me too."

Jinki chuckled, unsure of what to do now and Jonghyun only shook his head in response to that. He was being strange again — having a moment.

“They told me to go last. Since you made it, how do you feel about that?”

Jinki hummed, and then shrugged his shoulders. Like this, he made it clear he didn’t want to turn any of this into a big deal. Besides, shouldn’t he be grateful that someone like Jonghyun had showed up here? Shouldn’t he be glad that, thanks to him, the whole theatre would soon be filled to the brim with people that otherwise never would have come here? Jonghyun sighed, and those familiar, uneasy feelings began to settle again. Being an idol, being voluntarily exploited, was not something one should necessarily be proud of. Well, he was, he _definitely_ was, but that was not how everyone would see it. That was not necessarily how Jinki would see it. And for good reason.

“It’s for the best, I think. I just hope… No, nevermind.”

Jonghyun smiled and then pushed some air out of his lungs to stop a misplaced laugh from escaping. “You hope that they won’t be too impatient while they wait for me.”

Jinki looked surprised, did nothing for a few seconds, and then slowly nodded. “I don’t know how this is going to go, but…” Jinki clearly wasn’t a rude or hostile person, which made it hard for him to let it all out. They’d sound too judgemental, even if Jonghyun _knew_ that he didn’t mean any of this in a judgemental way. It was not Jonghyun he had an issue with, _if_ he had any issue at all. “There’s a bit of a stigma, really. I mean, not that I necessarily think your fans fit that stigma, but… An idol concert is a whole lot different from a theatre charity event slash talent showcase, isn’t it? I’m worried it might be misinterpreted. Not that today is necessarily about that, though. It’s about money more so than anything else.”

When Jinki stopped talking, _rambling_ , he looked somewhat embarrassed. This was the first time Jinki had actively acknowledged that Jonghyun was an idol, and he hadn’t made it seem like he was impressed by that in any way. If anything, it was a necessary nuisance. Jonghyun understood; the industry was nothing but a nuisance for companies like Jinki's. A nuisance that provided money in this instance, of course, but a nuisance nonetheless.

Jonghyun said nothing, and instead just took a good look at how these feelings manifested. It was interesting. So interesting that there was not a thought that sprung to mind. He preferred to just take it all in instead.

“Not that I am not grateful you’re here. Really, I am. You have no idea how much this is helping us out.” Jonghyun could practically hear the other’s heart thumping through his chest. Jonghyun had worried him, or so it seemed, and now Jinki was afraid there was a possibility he might leave. Lee Jinki wasn’t very good at following direction, but not in the way that Jonghyun wasn’t, and not in the way that Kibum wasn’t, and — even though Jonghyun knew Minho had never much thought about following or giving direction at all — not in the way that Minho wasn’t.

“I’ve thought about it too,” Jonghyun then stated. “I came to the same conclusion you did.”

“You did?” Relief. Jonghyun felt it, and it made him feel good; like things were right again. “What conclusion was that, exactly?”

Jonghyun nodded, and then opened the program. He flipped through the pages and pursed his lips. “They pay upfront, don’t they? Is it ticketed?” Jinki nodded. “Well, then it won’t matter when I go. I could go first, or directly after the person you chose to open, and then those who don’t want to see the rest can leave.” With a smile on his face, Jinki nodded all the way through Jonghyun’s sentence.

Relief, more relief. Something about seeing that relief, made Jonghyun feel relieved too. He’d created a problem in his line-up, and now he had fixed it again. “Thank you. That sounds… good.”

Then, it was Jonghyun who nodded. “No reason to treat me differently. I’m not my manager; I won’t demand anything just because some people happen to like me.” In fact, now he thought about it, this might just be the first time he was free of all those managers and those secrets. Or, well, _almost_ free of their secrets, but there wasn’t any time to think about that. Not just yet. Later. “And I’ll try to get them to keep quiet. No yelling. If we’re lucky, they’ll understand that this is different.”

***

Jonghyun knew a lot, too much perhaps, but not that he was _really_ so young. Of course it wasn't always so easy to judge someone's age by the screams that escaped from underneath the door, and not even by the short glimpses he’d caught in hallways, but now he knew that reality was worse than what he'd already expected. Not that someone older would have been more equipped to deal with such a thing — Jonghyun wasn’t sure whether _anyone_ was really equipped to deal with such a thing — but being young, and being so small, and being so controlled… _Hm_. What would be left of him later, when he was older? Jonghyun wasn’t sure. Or well, he was, but he shouldn’t be — _couldn’t_ be.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” Jinki was concerned, clearly, but there was a certain familiarity in his voice. This had happened before. “Shh…”

But it wasn’t okay, and Jonghyun could clearly see that from where he was standing; right outside of one of the dressing rooms. The boy’s body was failing him. Normally, he controlled it so perfectly, and moved it with such precision, but right now he was trashing his limbs all around as the pressure from around him had become too much now. He was in some sort of a panic, clearly, and Jinki — as always — didn’t know what to do to make it go away.

It hadn’t been Jonghyun’s intention to follow them here, but in the end he hadn’t had another choice. His instincts had done it, and now he could only watch.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I promise. You don’t have to be here,” Jinki said. His voice was quiet and controlled, and he was presenting an ultimatum that the boy would be free to reach out to if he wanted it. “It doesn’t matter what anyone told you, okay? This is your choice. If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to. I promise.”

The boy sat still for a moment, trapped in Jinki’s arms as he thought about those words, but then he began to fight against it again. He let out a noise, and the wooden bench that was screwed against the wall budged a little. Jinki’s grip tightened in response and he let out a deep breath. It was clear that he felt nervous, but that didn’t make him any less willing to help the boy through this. They knew each other, clearly, and Jonghyun assumed they’d done so for a very, very long time.

“Taeminie, please,” Jinki muttered. “Please calm down. It’s okay. It _is_. Okay? It really is.”

But, again, it wasn’t, and Taemin knew that too. “Let me go!” He shouted. “ _Hyung_ , let me go!”

“Promise me you won’t run out the room. We can — need to talk about this, okay? There’s no need for you to feel like this!”

Taemin said nothing, but continued his fighting. It was almost like he didn’t even hear it — there was simply too much pressure.

Jonghyun tried his best not to have thoughts; it wasn’t his place to. Not yet. However, it was becoming increasingly harder. Time was ticking. He knew what was going to happen. How could he let it, without thinking about it?

“Taemin. _Taeminie_ ,” Jinki continued. He pulled at him more firmly, ending the fight by increasing the strength he used. He spread his legs and pulled Taemin in between them, after which he began to squeeze them shut. His arm wrapped around his chest, arms trapped, so that he wasn’t able to trash them all around him anymore. He looked like a protective blanket, almost, or like one of these straight jackets they used on people who had truly lost it. Not that Taemin had; Taemin was just distraught. “Calm down for hyung, okay? It’s okay. I _promise_ it’s okay.”

Taemin made no indication that he’d even heard him, and instead dug his teeth into his bottom lip. His hands clenched to fists, telling himself not to cry, to not make these noises. These noises were, after all, reserved for when he really had no other choice but to make them.

“Let’s count back from ten.” Which Jinki then started doing, until Taemin eventually followed in the weakest, most fragile voice imaginable.

“Well done,” Jinki said, and then the relief began to settle. He’d managed it again. “I need you to listen to me now, Taemin, and I mean it. You don’t have to do this. I mean it. Hyung would never make you do any of this.”

Taemin looked tired, but he nodded in agreement. “I know hyung wouldn’t.” _But?_ Jonghyun waited patiently. “She said it needed to be better than last time or they won’t want me anymore.”

Jonghyun watched how Jinki squeezed his eyes shut. Now, it was he who needed to count back from ten, which was exactly what he seemed to be doing. “That’s not true, Taemin,” he then said. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, clearly, but Jinki was an honest man. “It was perfect last time, everyone knows that. They’ll keep wanting you around. They’d be stupid to send you away.” Jinki let out a deep breath, and Jonghyun could almost hear the ‘ _unfortunately_ ’ that he decided not to let out.

“No,” Taemin said simply, shaking his head. “There were mistakes. She pointed them out. It needs to be better. She said it needs to be better, because everyone is going to watch this now, and I’m last, and then everyone will see and remember.”

Jonghyun’s heart pounded rapidly. He wasn’t sure what this feeling was, but judging by the expression Jinki wore, it reminded him of guilt. He brought his hand to his chest and pressed it tightly against himself to suss it. He knew too much, and now it was all coming out and exploding. Or so he hoped. If Jinki would say the right things, and if Taemin would give the right answers, it would. And Jonghyun wouldn’t stop it. Not yet. Sometimes, things had to go wrong before they would ever get better.

“We’ll tell her that you’re unwell. We’ll ask the idol —” Jinki shook his head, sighing more. “We’ll ask Kim Jonghyun to take your place after all. No one will be surprised or disappointed.”

Taemin shook his head again, and then his hands clenched to fists once more. “Mummy will notice. And she will be disappointed.” With hopeful eyes, he turned around to look at Jinki. “Right?”

Jinki couldn’t argue with that, and despite the fact that he wanted to shake his head, he nodded. “Yeah,” he sighed. “But I’ll help you. We could make it work. If you really can’t do this, or don’t want to do this anymore, we’ll figure something out.”

They were quiet for a moment, staring ahead of themselves, but then Taemin’s hands unclenched and he squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could. He held his breath, and then let it all out again. The smile returned to his face, and his eyes became brighter. He shook his head. “It’s okay, hyung.” His voice wasn’t strained anymore, and instead he’d returned to behaving like he should — like everyone always told him to do. “I can do it. I was just having a… tantrum.”

But Jinki didn’t seem convinced, and neither was Jonghyun. He knew tantrums. Kibum and Minho had tantrums, which were usually about petty things that didn’t matter, and even more often about each other. What Taemin had just displayed looked nothing like a tantrum. The noises Taemin made, that escaped from underneath doors, sounded nothing like tantrums.

“Please don’t talk like that, Taeminie. You don’t have to talk like that.”

But Taemin’s mind had been made up. He calmly tugged at Jinki’s grip, after which Jinki was forced to let him go. “I can do it, hyung. It’s okay. I’m calm now, so it’s okay.”

“Taemin, please…” But the rest of that sentence faded into background noise as Jonghyun began to move away from the door, way before Taemin would get the chance to see him.

***

But they were loud, and they didn’t understand. Jonghyun's Tweet — ‘ _please be quiet, it’s different here’ —_ hadn’t made a difference at all. They chanted like they normally did, and their yelling echoed through the space like Jonghyun had never even tried to make them understand anything at all.

They’d done it through Jonghyun’s performance, using their usual fan chants, and they’d done it in between acts. _During_ those other performances — especially Jinki’s — they’d managed to keep quiet, taking in what was freely given away to them, but then when the stage was empty again, they had no trouble breaking down into their usual, loud excitement. They’d even started singing Jonghyun’s songs at one point, as if they were trying to get him back onto the stage, despite Jonghyun’s various attempts at getting them to stop.

 _‘This was it from me, now enjoy the rest!’_ And then, when the chanting and singing persisted: _‘I mean it, everyone. Please show some respect and stop making this about me. Don’t you realise this is embarrassing me? Please...’_

However, that last Tweet he’d had to delete, and he was pretty sure he was going to face some repercussions for having behaved so ‘recklessly’. It wouldn’t surprise Jonghyun if they were going to put some restrictions on his accounts. After all, he’d already acted way out of line by setting something like this up — _and without any supervision, even!_ — so some disciplinary action was only to be expected.

That was the thing about the industry, Jonghyun thought. People just owned you, even when you had always assumed that you couldn’t be owned, and _wouldn’t_ be owned.

“This is a right mess,” Kibum laughed.

Because any sign of Jonghyun’s presence drove the entire room wild, they were standing backstage now. Kibum leaned against a wall with folded arms, and the grin on his face was thick and smug. He revelled in the drama of it, despite the fact that Jonghyun _really_ didn’t like that it had turned out like this — or so he'd made it seem.

“Sorry,” Minho said. He’d come up to them during a break, and he seemed as exhausted as Jonghyun felt. “I thought it was a good idea, but this… Yeah, well, I hadn’t exactly expected this. God, it’s busy.”

Jonghyun shook his head, and then shrugged his shoulders. “I could have expected this, really. I should have known better.”

And he had. He _had_ known better, but that hadn’t stopped him from letting it happen anyway. He’d been waiting for an opportunity like this for so long that he’d be willing to do anything to make it come to life. That had almost made it okay that he’d caught Jinki glare at him from the other side of the stage, where he’d stood with crossed arms as a woman talked in on him.

“Must be hard,” Minho continued. “You try to use what you’ve built for something good, and then it just completely backfires like this.”

“I wouldn’t call it backfiring,” Kibum responded. “It’s sold out, right? That’s all hyung’s doing.”

“He doesn’t like it like this, though. Do you, hyung?”

Jonghyun shrugged, “It’s alright. After tonight, they can go back to how they normally do things here. And who knows, some of them might even be interested to come back. Could be that they’re just bad — well, _'bad' —_ as a collective.”

“Yeah, but still,” Minho spoke again. “It’s clear you would have wanted it differently, and I’m... sorry, I guess.”

“Listen, though.” Kibum held his finger up, eyes sparkling a little. The audience was singing something again, sending noise through the space. It sounded impressive, though not as impressive as silence would have done. “Sounds pretty amazing, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Minho said, “but I don’t think that’s really the point. Is it?”

Jonghyun shrugged. He would have appreciated Kibum’s words under other circumstances, but now he was distracted. Now his eyes were on Jinki’s, which looked back at him from behind the curtains at the other end of the stage, without really seeing him at all. He was distressed, that much was clear, and he nervously looked around himself, anticipating the worst.

Now that Jonghyun was letting this happen — whatever it was that would happen — he wondered how long Jinki had been letting this happen for. And, at the same time, he wondered whether he’d tried to stop it from the very beginning, or whether he’d encouraged it at first, having greeted it with a smile and something like a _‘I know you could do it, Taeminie!’_ and a soft, gentle pat against his back, until he started to realise that all of this was perhaps the worst thing to ever have happened to the boy.

“Like hyung said: one night, and everything can go back to normal again. Until then, we can all enjoy this for what it is. Besides, it’s not like this has to go on for much longer anyway. Just one more to go, and everyone can start forgetting about this again. Or well, everyone aside from those fans, because I bet _they’re_ having the time of their lives right now.” Kibum’s voice sounded effortlessly annoyed, which was probably why Minho didn’t try to interrupt him or even respond to him. It was already clear that Kibum liked the drama of it all — of a night gone _slightly_ wrong — and that no one would be able to convince him otherwise.

Jonghyun’s heart jumped up to his throat as the figure of a boy appeared beside him. He was shorter than Jonghyun was, and slimmer and leaner. Hadn't it been for how unnaturally beautiful he was, the boy was so tiny that he would have disappeared into nothing as he stood beside Jonghyun. Not that Jonghyun would ever mistake those physical attributes for weakness or fragility, however, because there was something in his eyes that would make anyone — well, not _anyone_ — change their mind. He looked determined as he waited, eyebrows lowered in a concentration that no one would be able to break him out of, despite the unmistakable shallowness of his breathing. But no, he wouldn’t lose it, he seemed to have decided. Not until this was over, at least. He could do it. It would be okay. He could do it.

 _Hyung_ , he could do it.

Jinki spurred into action upon the sight of him, waving his hands frantically as if to motion for him to come to where he was standing. When the woman from before appeared from behind him, however, Jinki stopped again. He looked desperate as he begged the boy for eye-contact, but Taemin didn't see him, or chose not to see him. Then, his eyes bore into Jonghyun's, asking him for assistance, but no matter how hard it was to ignore the man’s desperation, Jonghyun was left with no other choice. Not now. He couldn't help Jinki now. Not now they'd gotten _this_ close.

“You’re the last one, aren’t you?” Kibum asked, forcing everyone’s attention on the boy. “Must be special, considering hyung here gave his precious closing spot up for you.”

Jonghyun whacked his arm behind him and grabbed a hold of Kibum’s shirt, squeezing the fabric in his hand and therefore wrinkling it. _Not now, Kibum_ , he wanted to say, but he didn’t. Something about Taemin’s presence made him unable to speak, anger overwhelming him. Ah, well, that really _had_ been getting worse lately.

“Hey, hey, _hey_!” Kibum’s fingers quickly pried at Jonghyun’s, making him let go of him. “What’s wrong with you _now_?! I’m just trying to make conversation.”

 _Well, do it later_ , Jonghyun wanted to say, but he said nothing instead, leaving Kibum hanging in his confusion.

“Huh?” Taemin’s eyes were big as he looked at Jonghyun. “You did?” Jonghyun’s heart ached, pounding agonisingly fast.

But Jonghyun just stared back at him and did nothing. There was a lot he could have said, but he said none of it. Not much longer now. Nothing he could say right now would matter, but every last second of silence would. When he’d be up there, he could wonder about what that meant, and about why Jonghyun was looking at him so intensely, and maybe then it would all slowly begin to make sense.

The lights went out, and Taemin disappeared.

When the lights went back on, Taemin’s presence was met by applause. Not that Taemin seemed capable of taking it in, because it didn’t look like he managed to hear anything at all. His eyes were wide, and then he looked to the side, breathing heavily not with nerves, but with fear. The woman beside Jinki nodded at him, eyes wide and pressing, after which she raised her thumb up for encouragement; the gentlest gesture she was capable of making. Behind her eyes, though, was a threat of anger. She needed Taemin to be better — better than he’d been last time — even now that the noises were so loud and so overwhelming that they droned out the music he was meant to be dancing to. But Taemin didn’t start. He stood still, and let the music play and play and play.

The noises grew louder. The clapping persisted. The music faded away even more. The woman’s expression fell. Jinki’s muscles tensed.

 _Taemin!_ Jonghyun wanted to shout at him, but he didn’t. He just watched Taemin as he tore his eyes away from the woman and stared out into the audience instead. He was met by confused chatter, only growing louder and louder as time passed him by. The presence of this audience seemed to confuse him, as if he’d momentarily forgotten that he was anywhere at all. They were too loud, Jonghyun knew, and they didn’t make sense. There was too much pressure, attacking him from every angle. No remorse.

But then, when the noises faded into the background and the presence of his music returned to him, he started. No, then he _moved_ , gently swaying from left to right. He waited for the climax that his song was building up to, raised his arm, after which his eyes shot wide open instead. Determination returned to him, confusion long forgotten. He didn’t start. He wouldn’t start. He would _never_ do this again.

He searched for something, but didn’t need to look long. Without any sort of hesitation, he stepped towards the side of the sage, where an abandoned mic stand waited for him. Jonghyun’s heart pounded. He felt sick. Now. _Taemin!_ Now. _Now_.

“Mummy,” Taemin spoke.

The mic wasn’t on. No one heard him. Jonghyun’s heart dropped. _No._

“MUMMY!”

And he was back again. Yes. Yes. Taemin, _now_.

The chatter died down, all eyes on Taemin, who turned around to look at where she was standing, just beside Jinki.

“Mummy,” he said again, just after the music had stopped — perfectly timed. “Please let me stop.” 

**Author's Note:**

> More soon! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Find me on twitter at @letsjustfckngo if you want to! 
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated as always.


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